


Pulchritudinous (American Beauty)

by ybcpatrick



Series: the peterick dictionary [3]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: (kinda), Flirting, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-hiatus, insecure!patrick, ioh era, pete's such a sweetheart ;___;, why am i like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 23:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11724372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ybcpatrick/pseuds/ybcpatrick
Summary: Patrick finally found the remote and flicked on MTV, grateful for the distraction now available to him. He could listen to music instead, that would drown Pete out.“You're pulchritudinous.”Okay. That got Patrick's attention. He turned to face Pete, perplexed.“I'mwhatnow?”





	Pulchritudinous (American Beauty)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not 100% happy with this from a personal artistic standpoint, but fuck it. I wanna get around to the other parts of this series because I'm just so excited about it!!
> 
> Regardless of my personal opinion on this, I hope you enjoy it!

**pul•chri•tu•din•ous**  
pŭl′krĭ-to͞od’n-əs/ _adj._  
_• [ of a person] possessing incredible physical beauty._

///////

“You're stunning.”

Patrick choked on his Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

“I'm sorry?” He sputtered, coughing up cinnamon grains. Pete only continued to gaze at him, head resting atop his hands on the counter.

“You're beautiful.” He said. “Gorgeous. Breathtaking. Astonishing.” A deep flush of crimson crept over Patrick’s cheeks, and he stared down at his cereal, swishing his spoon in the milk to avoid the intense brown gaze tracking his movements.

“Alright, I get it…” he muttered. Pete didn't say anything else for a long moment, his own bowl of Lucky Charms forgotten in front of him on the counter. Hesitantly, Patrick looked up, finding the other boy still staring at him. “ _What_?”

“You don't get it, though,” Pete insisted, smile falling. “Which is why I’m here to tell you!” Patrick blushed deeper, feeling embarrassment and defensiveness building slowly in his chest.

“I think I get it just fine, thank you.” Patrick retorted, stalking out of the kitchenette with his bowl. Who was he to tell him he didn't love himself? Like, in a sense, he kinda _didn't_ , but he didn't need to hear it from someone else! And he didn't need to hear it from _Pete_ anyways, it just made his stupid, unrequited crush worse! For the millionth time that tour, Patrick wished he were at home instead of on his stupid bus, because there was nowhere to hide from Pete's continuous, smudged-eyeliner gaze.

“If you insist, but I'm still gonna keep coming up with words to describe your ethereal beauty.” Pete proclaimed, watching intently as Patrick dumped himself onto the couch, just barely managing not to spill his cereal.

“Do what you want, man,” Patrick groused, “I'm not listening anyways.”

“You're handsome.”

Patrick’s face felt impossibly hot, but he stubbornly ignored the feeling, and Pete. He took another defiant bite of his Cinnamon Toast Crunch, pointedly still not listening.

“Divine. Alluring.”

Still no answer. Still not listening. Patrick looked around for the remote to the TV, trying not to look too frantic in doing so. Pete rose from his stool at the counter, crossing over into the lounge area as he carried on waxing poetic.

“You're fucking ravishing.” Pete murmured, seemingly entranced by his own words. Carefully, he sunk down into the overstuffed chair beside Patrick, cradling his Lucky Charms in both hands. “Hypnotizing.”

Patrick finally found the remote and flicked on MTV, grateful for the distraction now available to him. He could listen to music instead, that would drown Pete out.

“You're pulchritudinous.”

Okay. That got Patrick's attention. He turned to face Pete, perplexed.

“I'm _what_ now?” He queried, previous frustration giving way to his confusion. Pete smiled, bright and pearly-white at him.

“ _Pulchritudinous_. You possess incredible physical beauty, Lunchbox.” Pete explained, waving his spoon around for emphasis. Patrick frowned, unable to stop the way his face heated up once again. Pouting, he took another bite of cereal.

“Yeah, whatever. That word sounds more like a fucking _disease_ than anything.” The singer grumbled. Pete just waved him off, carefully moving his spoon around to catch only the marshmallows.

A long beat of silence passed between them, easy on Pete's end and tense on Patrick's. He felt he should say something, justify himself, even tell Pete to fuck off with the compliments (because he did _NOT_ feel like dealing with his Big Gay Crush whilst trying to enjoy his 4:00pm ‘breakfast’), but no words came. So instead, he just watched as colours and figures passed on the TV, indistinguishable without his glasses. Eventually, he felt Pete's stare on him again, and he groaned, whipping his head in the bassist’s direction.

“Oh my god, what!?” He demanded, indignant. Pete didn't take any notice of the anger in his voice, looking on at him with an air of sadness.

“Why don't you believe me?” Pete asked, voice quiet and laced with concern and curiosity. Patrick sighed heavily, setting his bowl on the coffee table.

“I just don't?” He replied tentatively, eyes drifting down to his hands. “I…I don't know, Pete. This feels weird.” Frowning, Pete only crossed the small space to sit beside Patrick on the couch, leaning forward to try and catch his eyes.

“You really are beautiful, ‘Trick. To me, anyways,” Pete said earnestly. “You may think this is weird but you really deserve to know.” Patrick laughed humourlessly.

“Yeah? Name one fucking thing that's beautiful about me. I haven't showered in three days, I woke up a half hour ago, I have dark circles worse than yours right now. This isn't beautiful.” Patrick challenged bitterly. Pete only clasped a hand over one of Patrick's wrists, sighing as he did.

“There are things about you that are beautiful all the time, though.” Pete said, voice tender. Patrick felt his heart thumping against his ribs, and prayed Pete wouldn't hear it as the boy leaned over his body, snagging the remote. Methodically, Pete turned down the TV, until it was almost muted. He then looked back at Patrick, eyes full of sincerity and love.

“You haven't showered in a few days, but your hair is still soft and fluffy.” Pete began, gingerly curling a hand in the long locks hanging over Patrick's shoulder. “You woke up a half hour ago, but somehow you don't have bed head, your beautiful hair just falls perfectly. You don't even need to try.

“Your eyes have dark circles, yeah, everyone's do. You gotta remember that you went to bed at, like, five am because you were up basically all night with me. And besides, the dark colour only brings out your eyes more. And oh my god, Lunchbox, your eyes. They're powdery blue like the sky, and the sun’s in the middle of them because of that ring of gold.” Pete's fingers trailed up from Patrick's hair to run his knuckles against Patrick's still-pink cheek. Patrick felt his breath stutter.

“Your eyes are amazing, and so’s the rest of your face,” Pete continued, subconsciously turning around more to face Patrick. “You've got _killer_ cheekbones, a really sharp nose, and the fullest, most beautiful fucking lips I've ever seen. Like, better than any other person I've met, guy or girl.”

Patrick tried not to give in and let Pete's words quell him. He tried not to let it sink in, because a large part of his brain was screaming that it wasn't true, and that he didn't deserve any of what Pete was trying to convince him of. But still, he leaned in to Pete's hand as it flattened against his cheek, gently cradling his face. He held his breath as Pete stared him down, warm eyes scanning every inch of him.

“I— I guess,” Patrick choked out, feeling infinitely more insecure and awkward under the close scrutiny. Pete only smiled, flashing his perfect teeth again.

“You're starting to get it.” He whispered. He leaned infinitesimally closer, feeling his nose just bump against Patrick's. “Can I?” He asked, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah.” Patrick breathed.

And then gently, oh so gently, Pete pressed the sweetest kisses to Patrick's lips. It lasted only a second, but it felt like a lifetime. Patrick’s eyes fluttered shut, dazed from just the small act. Pete smiled warmly, pecking him again.

“How convinced are you now?” Pete asked, still mere millimetres away from the other boy’s face. Patrick sighed, cracking a small smile in return.

“I think I can be persuaded… if you keep doing that, that is.” He teased, fingers absently curling into the bottom of Pete’s shirt.

“Better get started then. Where was I…”

“That weird ‘P’ word?”

“Ah yes.” Pete chuckled, leaning in again. “You're pulchritudinous, ‘Trick.”

They never did finish their cereal.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr and instagram @angelofthedamnlord and talk to me about fanfiction


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